Artistic Expression: Let the rich kids from Lahore show their elaborate artwork in galleries, but let the intricate trucks of Karachi be ridiculed.
Art is the expression of emotion, culture, and the raw depths of each person and community. But what dictates who enjoys the bliss of artistic fame and who doesn’t?
The galleries of Islamabad and Lahore are filled with the elaborate creations of students and artists, each curated with dedication, precision and practice. This class of Pakistan enjoys the opportunity to show their art as a form of expression, rather than as a chore. Each stroke is filled with emotion, each pause in the artist’s hand with purpose.
Such is the case in crammed industrial sites as well. Women from lower socio-economic backgrounds huddle together, embroidering flowers and ornate designs onto rolls of fabric. They work for hours on end, their needles filled with not passion, but poverty. This cloth will go on to sell for cheap prices, bargained to the lowest cost, with the middlemen pocketing most of the profit. These secret artists, however, will return to their homes, fingers bleeding and pricked, yet with no recognition.
While galleries in cities like Lahore and Karachi celebrate edgy themes and “raw expressions”, they often come from a narrow class of English-speaking, urban artists who move in elite circles. Meanwhile, artists from rural backgrounds, villages, and working classes are rarely at the forefront of recognition.
Pakistan’s Artistic Expression and Its Exclusion
From beadwork to stamped dupattas to frilly tassels that hang ignored at the ends of lace, each artisan works gruelling hours for meagre pay. They are neither acknowledged nor appreciated. The potter who kneads his clay from the earth, shapes it, moulds it, and dries it will still come home with a few pennies and bread. Yet the rich kids from fancy homes can get away with romanticising this. Mitti ke bartan becomes terracotta tableware, Lunda bazaar becomes a fun, cutesy thrift haul, and a boori becomes an aesthetic tote bag. The rich enjoy the life of deriving pleasure from what the poor are forced to endure.
Art is steeped deep into the soil of Pakistan; from the vibrant trucks to the designs of clay cups, each holds the symbolism of Pakistan’s diversity and culture. We fail to acknowledge the effort that goes into these things, preferring to call the designs on buses ‘loud’ and ‘unmodern’. But this is where our true roots lie, and appreciating the small works of these labourers bears fruit not only monetarily for them but also mentally for all of us.
Each craftsman of Pakistan — from Sindhis who make Ajraks to the Punjabis with their Parandas, — deserves to have a special spotlight and appreciation. It’s not just about who creates art but about who is allowed to be seen. And in Pakistan, visibility is still a privilege.